Dec 4 2013

reverb13: day 4
blessed

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This post is part of Reverb 13:

Day 4: What have you lost, what are you grieving?

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I sit in the dark of very early morning, pondering this question.

The truth is, I feel I have no right to answer.

The truth is, I feel blessed by the fact that I’ve lost so little. That I have so much.

Not material things, because the truth is, that is not at all where my wealth lies. When it comes to things, I have very little.

But when it comes to life, I am decidedly rich.

The truth is, I’ve yet to experience the kind of earth-shattering loss that will make me grieve for years. There have been a few bumps along the road, friends, and pets that I loved, truly. But all the people I am closest to, all the people I hold close in my heart are still here, in my life.

I could talk about other things I’ve lost, things like time and youth and innocence. But, no matter.

The truth is I am so glad to be here in this life, so happy to be alive, so in love with the beautiful mess that surrounds me, that I have no time to grieve small losses.

I know that someday, this will change. Someday my heart will be broken in ways I can only imagine. Someday there will be devastating losses. This is a truth I cannot escape.

But today, just now, I can only sit here in this chair, in front of this dark window facing east and wait for the sun to rise on another day, a perfectly boring ordinary day that I will do my best to cherish.

Today, just now, I’ve lost little. Regret almost nothing.

I am here.

And I will make that be enough.

In fact, it will be everything.

 


Nov 26 2013

running through the veins
of illumination

you cannot deny the light

the way it colors everything
with the existence of shadow

i see hope in the mirror
of cracked faces

something deeper than darkness

some glimmer of innocence and
arbitrary renewal

random patterns weaving evidence
of participation

the glow of reverence

your compass leads the way
with no reflection

crazed crackled map
of delicate edges

leading to your last deliverance


Oct 22 2013

retroactive moon in the
shadow of presumption

this moon keeps showing up everywhere I turn
in my words, my bedroom window,
the music that plays through my dreams

on a good day, i pretend that this means something
a sign of some connection or some secret
between mother nature and myself

on a bad day, i think it means i am obsessed
with things that don’t exist
and just like the gravity that holds me down
there is nothing to be seen but consequence

we don’t float away and therefore, gravity exists
we don’t see a hole in the sky and therefore,
the moon is made of cheese or stardust
or some old man’s twisted smile

i don’t want to hold hands with either
i just want to look up and be glad that magic exists
i want to walk off the edge of a cliff and know that I will fall

but there is no correct answer
your moon is the same as mine and the same
force keeps us earthbound

oh, i know you’d like to offer your own interpretation
you dance and i fly and we pretend again and again
that this is something other than science

and in the end what keeps us grounded
is not the dinners and the datebooks and the deadlines
but the final knowledge that we cannot hide from the moon
nor can we float out into space to offer up a kiss

she will always be there, longer and older and
higher than any one of us or all of us together
at night the tides she pulls run crazy through my body
over shores i cannot cover or expose

she is adversary’s ancient echo
drawing us in and under and over ourselves
nothing trite or romantic or representative
of anything other than existence

the cold hard truth hides in all of us,
lit up and made golden by a sun who knows
little more than violence

this moon is anti matter that matters
more than she will show

rhythm and bone
in sky’s last cradle
hollow heart rocking
to and fro


Oct 1 2013

the second day of autumn

we mark the passage of
time like it matters

your sand
my glass
our history

none of it can be claimed
owned
held onto

still
you extend
cupped hands
to a clear blue sky

trying to catch
the simple version
of this story

but sand becomes glass
and i see through you

this is the clearing
in the forest of forever

the sun warms my skin
even as it’s magnified

neither one of us
wants to burn

yet we lie here
singing songs
of ritual
and habit

until we’re buried
grain by grain

side by side

.

.

.

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Linking up with the fabulous dVerse poets for Open Link Night join us!

May 7 2013

zen and the art of survival

i need to eat and you’re not hungry
we are mind mirror
life miners

asking hope to keep promises never made

i feed you prawns for breakfast
and there is never enough

you are sage and i am curry

you are silence and i am angry

you have too much and i
get lost a lot

of course I don’t blame you
for accepting what was offered

i am
quiet
standing
balanced

blown but not destroyed
by the way of things

you need to eat and

i am hungry

plate, fork
salt, knife

round table

.

.

.

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Linking up with the fabulous dVerse poets for Open Link Night join us!

May 2 2013

nine thousand
six hundred sunsets

For as long as I have lived in my house, some 26 years now, this has been my view. Some years it is corn, others wheat, but always this old, broken down shed with its very own sentinel of tree. I have watched thousands of sunsets through this silhouette.

Until yesterday.

I was away all morning, and when I returned, both tree and shed were gone. I’m guessing that the farmer who owns the field needs the space to boost his crop, last year we had a terrible drought, and I know it was rough for him. I can’t blame him for doing what needs to be done.

But there was always something about that shed that spoke of days gone by, and that one lone tree in a field full of corn was always the first thing I could see coming up the hill, guiding me home.

Once again, and without warning, my view of the world has changed. And while I know that change is the only thing we can really count on, I will miss the comfort of this familiar sight.

I’m getting the feeling that 2013 is going to be filled with surprises. So I’m going to buckle my seatbelt and settle in for the ride, and see where it takes me.

Because you can’t fight change and the world keeps turning and the sinking sun will still be beautiful.

And I have lots of photos to remind me of the way things used to be.

Every so often, I will walk to end of the driveway with one in my hand and hold it up for just a moment, remembering.

And then I’ll go back inside and catch up to life, before it goes zooming by.

 

 

 


Oct 23 2012

reading over the shoulder
of impermanence

with the posture of a perfect impostor
the kind that can look you in the eye and make you see
blue
when it has already been established
that green is the color
of tomorrow

and

i want to kiss your neck
nuzzle in a little
settle down

get to know what makes you

tick

tock

and which words are your favorite

but of course
we both know
you have already
erased them

covered them over
with hatch marks and
strips of black
marker

no looking back
no turning the page
no deciphering
because

everything you say
is code for someone
who isn’t
gone
yet

.

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.

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Linking up today with the fabulous dVerse poets for Open Link Night, join us!

 

 


Oct 9 2012

crone

.

i hear her whispers in the dark
as i lie staring at the moon
hanging in the center of my window
telling me stories i wish
i had no need to know

the apples she offers
are not spiked with poison
only withered dreams
and the juice of death
running down
through bony fingers

.

i catch all the drips
as they fall from her wrist
with a tongue
i know cannot save me

yet there is no fear
in this bracelet of decency
no menace in her offer
to share

she comes as hollowed out friend
in a cloak i choose
to wear
but makes no move
to hang it
on the shudder of my shoulders

.

she is

happy to wait

the empty space
of ticking seconds

barren and fruitful

the silence of scream
to the motherless child

she is

answer and question
one
in the lace
of each veiled eye

.

.

.

.

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Fifty days from now, I turn fifty.
And while I thought I would be dreading this birthday,
I find myself looking forward to it.
On that day, November 27th, I want to host a
“celebrate life” blog-link party here. More details to follow,
but I would love to have you join me!
Linking up today with the fabulous dVerse poets for Open Link Night, join us!

 


Oct 4 2012

the waltz of want

She’d spent her entire life dancing on the edge of perfection, cutting hands and face and feet on the razor-thin precipice of need. Growth occurred, but randomly, and in all sorts of crazy directions.

The light was always what attracted her, when it was the dark she should have been reaching for. Everyone knows that all the real truths lie hidden in the shadows.

But she avoided the gloom like a child afraid of the monster beneath her bed.

She just wanted her moment in the sun.

When it came, she was surprised to see how many scars she had acquired along the way.

Even so, she tilted her face up and she smiled, opening her arms to embrace the warmth upon her skin.

.

.

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Linking up with the New World Creative Union’s  Wednesday Wake Up Call. Join us!

Sep 27 2012

over the hill

.

it could be

the road to nowhere

it could be

the road less traveled

either way

here i stand

right smack dab

in the middle

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